Quidditch Isn't So Bad After All
by Muggle Jane
Summary: Hermione moves back to Conjury to try and start over. Sequel to Stolen Memories.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Finally the sequel to Stolen Memories! I wanted it to be a one-shot, and it just... It's not. I'm trying to make it readable as a stand-alone, but it is a sequel!**

They hadn't expected to see me back in Conjury. It was shortly enough after I'd left that I was remembered, the British witch with short hair and a tall, redheaded husband. Of course, the husband hadn't really been mine, and pointedly wasn't with me now. No one asked anything- at least not for the first little while I was back. I was sure it would come up at some point, but hopefully not until after it stopped breaking my heart to even think about.

Before I'd left England, I'd emptied my vault at the local Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and deposited it all at the Conjury branch. The goblins in New Zealand were... willing to overlook the fact that I was involved with acquisition the Goblin-made sword that was still the topic of some debate, locked away in the depths of their bank. I was glad I'd taken the opportunity to learn about goblins from Griphook- the way he spoke and his mannerisms had taught me more than the little bits of information he'd actually given me.

I bought myself a little house, just down the street from Charlotte, who kept the cauldron shop. For the first little while, I did a lot of exploring. New Zealand is a beautiful place, temperate and green with a tendency towards rain.

As soon as the New Zealand Ministry of Magic discovered that I'd relocated there, they tried to recruit me for their own D.M.L.E. Or in any position I wanted, actually, they just desperately wanted to count me as a member of their staff. I politely declined, however, instead purchasing an empty shop, and after extensive discussions with George and one visit from him, opened my own branch of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He was absolutely thrilled. It was nothing I ever would have done before, but it seemed to suit me now, the Hermione who wore short hair and didn't want to be trapped behind a desk.

There was no doubt that my journey down here with Bill had changed me. Some days thinking about it made me sad, nostalgic, thinking of the life I'd had before. I missed Ron. I missed Ginny. I missed Harry. _I missed Ron_. Our fights had always been like that- he'd say the most cutting things and I'd get condescending, and then we wouldn't speak for a while. Now, though... I wasn't sure if he'd want to speak to me again. We hadn't spoken since I'd seen him before I'd left the hospital when I'd been there to recover from my memory being taken away.

It grew a little easier as time passed, though. A little, at least. I made friends, I worked in the shop, I became a part of the little town of Conjury.

"Hermione," I heard just seconds after the bells above the door jangled noisily, signaling that someone had come into the shop. It was early afternoon on a Tuesday, not typically a busy time in late fall, and I was using the opportunity to count stock. It was a monthly task, not one I particularly enjoyed, but it helped George see where the business was in concrete terms. It's hard to dispute numbers.

The voice was a familiar one; I knew without turning that it was Ken Stevens, the owner of the bookshop. I knew him well enough that I would consider him a friend. I'd spent a good deal of time and money in his shop on my first trip through Conjury, and he'd been very supportive when I'd arrived back.

"Over here, Ken," I greeted, not looking up from my clipboard. I'd employed a lot of Muggle conveniences; it really was easier trying to keep track of a long column of numbers spread over several pages on one clipboard than a long piece of parchment that tangled about your legs.

I heard him move through the shop until he came to where I was, standing in the corner in front of a shelf full of WonderWitch products. "There you are. How are you?"

"Good. Just, you know. Inventory." He would know all about inventory. I gestured with the hand holding the pen towards the shelves, taking a quick glance at him before turning my attention back to the two rows of love potions in front of me. I hated the things, the idea of being compelled to lust after someone after what had happened to me made me a little sick, but there'd been a brisk business in them at the start of the school year. "How are you?"

"Not so good, to be honest." He sounded genuinely troubled, and I took my attention completely off of the glass phials to look at him. He was a neat wizard, not too much taller than myself, with a thin mustache and a pair of round spectacles settled on his nose. His lean face was drawn into worried lines, worry in his brown eyes, and I reached out and rested my arm on his shoulder to comfort him.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my eyes on his. I hoped it was nothing too serious. I'd spent time with his family over Christmas, his wife Kate and his daughter Sarah. They were lovely people, and I hated to think that something might have happened to them.

"Mum's in the hospital over in Wellington. Seems she's picked up Dragon Pox, I don't know how." The expression on his face shifted to helpless frustration, as though there was something he could have done to prevent it.

There was a cure for Dragon Pox, I knew, but it could be tricky, especially if the witch or wizard who'd contracted it was in the later part of their life. "What can I do?" I asked him. I'd worked in his shop before, unloading books and stocking shelves. I could help out in a pinch if he needed me to, though it would be a bit tough with my own shop. But, more people wanted books during the day than they wanted joke products. I could work something out.

He shook his head. "Clara's going to manage for me, I've told her to hire someone if she needs to." Clara was his assistant manager. Ken looked a little doubtful now, his brown eyes having shifted back to worry. "But that's not what I'm here for. I happen to have a ticket to a Quidditch match, and I want you to have it."

I watched in disbelief as he fished in the breast pocket of his rather non-descript black robes for a moment- what all did he have in there that he had to search for a ticket?- and held it out.

I stared at it dubiously. I'd never really had anything against Quidditch, but the only reason I'd enjoyed it so much in school was that my friends played. And House pride, of course. "I'm not sure I'm the right person to be giving that to."

"Nonsense. Who doesn't enjoy Quidditch?" He looked as though he was personally offended at my statement, his dark eyebrows drawn down in slight horror. "I really don't want it to go to waste, I had to go to a lot of trouble to get that. Think of it as my way to thank you for all the help you've given me."

"All right." It wasn't worth the argument I could see brewing in his eyes. I reached out and took the ticket from him, tucking it under the metal clip on my clipboard. Maybe I'd enjoy it more than I thought I would.

"It's this Saturday, it's supposed to be a good match. The national team is playing." All of the concern vanished from his face as he talked about Quidditch, replaced instead by a look of intense pride. I'd seen that look quite a few times before, like when Ron talked about his beloved Chudley Cannons, despite how poorly they played year after year.

I made a non-committal noise that I hoped sounded appropriately interested. "Thank you. I hope your mum gets better quickly."

"Thanks, Hermione. I'll nip in when I get back, you can tell me how it went." They seemed a little more sensitive about their Quidditch here than they did in England, if that was at all possible. If my mum was the one in hospital with a potentially fatal magical ailment, I sure wouldn't be worried about passing on a Quiddith ticket, no matter how complicated it had been to acquire.

Slightly bemused, I watched him turn around and leave the shop, setting the bell to jangling again. Once he'd disappeared on the other side of the glass, I looked back down at the white bit of glossy paper clipped above my inventory numbers. Bulgaria vs. New Zealand. My eyebrows came up just a little. That was interesting. I couldn't help but wonder if Viktor was still playing for Bulgaria. I'd been out of touch with him for a while now. Maybe I could send an owl?

No. It had been a good few years since we'd been in contact, there was a fairly good chance he wouldn't even remember me. He was a successful Quidditch player, there were probably women queued up just to see him. The last time we'd seen each other was at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and we'd fallen out of contact shortly after that when I'd been on the run with Ron and Harry for most of a year.

I felt a bittersweet pang at that whole line of thought. Bill. It wasn't that long ago that we'd been transported to New Zealand with no memory of who we were thanks to a cursed sword, and had come to believe that we were married to each other. We, of course, weren't. And Ron had been the one to find us. And while Ron and I would have been able to get past it eventually, I couldn't get past the association of him with his oldest brother, and what that did to all of the memories we'd shared.

I let out a long sigh, turning my eyes back to the translucent pink vials in front of me. Maybe I could ask George if we could just get rid of them, or turn them into mail order, something he handled from England.

No, I was being silly. This was business. If this was my own shop, I could have done this, but this was a branch of WWW. I was professional enough to keep my personal feelings about something from interfering with George's business.

I looked at the ticket again. 7 PM. I would have to close the shop a little bit early if I wanted to get to the stadium on time. No doubt there would be a bit of a crowd, and although my ticket assured me a specific seat, I didn't want to have to fight through a throng of people to get to my seat.

Then again, if there was a Quidditch match, it wasn't likely that I'd be missing much business by closing early. Everyone would either be there, or at home listening on the wizarding wireless.

The door jangled again, and I looked up to see a young couple, evidently in on a browse. I gave them a bright smile, brushing down the front of my magenta robes and tucking my clipboard with its shiny new Quidditch ticket under my arm, and headed back to the counter. "Welcome to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Let me know if I can help you with anything."


	2. Chapter 2

I finished with my inventory a couple of days later. It always took a few days just because, while not as prosperous as the two branches back in Britain it was still a fairly popular shop, and I had to manage on my own.

It was drizzling that evening as I hurried home after closing the shop for the night. It wasn't a long journey between the shop-lined street so reminiscent of Diagon Alley and the little house tucked away towards the back of the village, but it was a persistently chilly fall evening, and I wanted to get into my warm and dry house as soon as I could. I tried not to Apparate within the residential part of the town, my neighbours did the same. The noise was quite disruptive.

I had another reason for hurrying home as well. I didn't want to miss my meeting with George. I always flooed him with the inventory numbers. He preferred it to me just owling them, said it took too long by owl. This way, he could look over the numbers right away and we could talk about anything that concerned either one of us.

My house was quiet and dark, but a couple of quick spells lit it up, with a fire going merrily in the fireplace. It wouldn't get much of a chance to warm the house yet, though, I went right to it and tossed the floo powder in before kneeling down and sticking my head into the green flames.

George was sitting at his kitchen table, waiting for me. "There you are, I was beginning to wonder."

"I'm not late!" I protested. I'd made very sure that I wasn't late.

"True, but you're not as early as you usually are, either." He gave me a cheeky wink, and I wasn't close enough to lean out and give him a swat. There was a twelve hour difference between us, so we tended to have our floo conversations at 7:30.

We went through my list together, occasionally one or both of us would make a comment about needing to have more of an item sent to me. Then, as usually happened, our conversation took a slightly more social turn.

"How's the family?" I asked. I was sitting as comfortably as I could with my head in the fire. I kept a cushion on the floor specifically for this purpose, it saved my knees and kept my feet from falling asleep.

"The family?" he teased, a knowing look in his eyes. "The family's good. Bill and Fleur are expecting their second child." I could see the sympathy in his brown eyes as he said it.

My heart ached, just a little. It hurt to hear, but he knew that I'd rather hear it from him than offhand from some random source. Intellectually, I knew that she was his wife, and he loved her with all of his heart. Logic followed that they would want to have more children together. My heart didn't understand logic, as much as I tried to keep it in check. My counselor had told me that you never really stop loving someone, it just turns into a different kind of love. "That's good. Congratulations to them, I bet they're both very happy."

"They are. And Mum's over the moon, of course." He was studying me carefully, his eyes moving over my face as though he was trying to read my mind. "Harry and Ginny have finally set a date for their own big day." He paused, studying me again. "Do you reckon you'll come back?"

I sighed, my hands balling into fists in my lap, tucked out of the way where George couldn't see. "I don't know. Will I even get an invitation?" It was a safe bet that Molly wouldn't want to send me one. I'd hurt her son, that was unforgivable.

"Harry and Ginny are insisting you have to be there, so I'd expect an owl about it. Mum'll be too busy fussing over Ginny to care." He watched me for another moment or two. "She asked about you the other day."

"Ginny?" Ginny actually wasn't too upset with me. We owled each other regularly, she'd actually mentioned that if she had a choice between me and Fleur, it would have been me. She didn't like that I'd hurt Ron, but she felt that it really wasn't any of her business. I suspected Harry helped a lot on that score.

"Mum."

I had to smile at that, at least a little. Molly Weasley had become a lot like a second mother for me, and it had hurt to see that look on her face again when Bill and I had returned to England. It was the same look she'd given me during the Triwizard Tournament when _that _article had been printed. Some time ago, George had assured me that she would come around, it just might take a while. It looked like he might be right, I certainly hoped so.

"And what has the great Hermione Granger been up to? I see you still haven't taken my advice and gone green." Right after we'd returned to England, he'd advised me that if I was going to attract attention, might as well colour my hair and really give everyone something to talk about, just throw it in their faces.

I lifted my hands to run over the tips of my hair, short enough that I wore it a little spiky on top. "Not green. Maybe black, though. I'm apparently going to see a Quidditch match." George followed Quidditch, maybe he'd know what I'd been wondering for a few days now. There was really no subtle way to work it into the conversation, might as well just get on with it. "It's Bulgaria vs. New Zealand. Does Viktor still play for Bulgaria?" Yeah, that was about as subtle as a bag of hammers to the head.

"Who, Krum?" George thought for a moment. "No, he retired... Last year, I think? Yeah. Last year. They lost the World Championship- he was so close to the Snitch- and he retired."

It was hard not to be a little disappointed at the news. George must have seen it on my face because he gave me a mischievous grin. "Who are you pulling for?"

"It'll have to be New Zealand."

"Even though you dated the Bulgarian Seeker?" He waggled his eyebrows at me.

"Years and years ago, George." I gave him a pointed look. "No point in cheering for them if he's not on the team now. Besides, they take their Quidditch very seriously down here. I might be run out of town if I showed up in red."

"Don't do that, then. Bad for business." He was mostly kidding, I knew he was happy with how the first international branch of his store was doing in its fourth month of operation. "Speaking of business, have you thought about hiring anyone else?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. It got pretty busy over Christmas holidays, I think I'll have to when school lets out for the summer again."

"It can be helpful to have an extra body around, even part time on the weekends. That way, if something comes up that you know you're going to have to take some time away from the store for, there's already someone who knows what to do." It was his turn to give me a pointed look. "Helps when you have to do things like take inventory, too."

A argument was already forming, but I kept it down. George was the successful businessman; no matter what I'd read, he had more practical knowledge about it. And I had read quite a bit about managing a successful business when this had first come up. "I'll think about it."

"What? No argument involving something you've read?" He grinned as he teased me. "This must be a first."

"Shut up," I told him good-naturedly, rolling my eyes, which turned the grin into a full chuckle. "Give everyone my love."

"I will. I'll talk to you next month. Good night, Hermione."

"If not sooner. Good morning, George." I sat back on my heels, pulling my head out of the fire. It was hard not to be a little disappointed at what he'd told me. Not the part about Bill and Fleur having another baby, that part just hurt, but the idea that I wouldn't see Viktor again. I'd made friends in Conjury, but it was still very _lonely_ being down here by myself. I'd gotten a little used to the idea that I'd get to see someone from my past, and obviously my assumption had been incorrect.

I sighed as I stood, tucking the cushion back into its place beside the sofa. I owled Harry and Ginny regularly, I spoke to George at least once a month by floo, but after having spent the majority of the past 12 years with everyone, I missed them. Viktor was a link to the memories of a less complicated time.

I decided that I might as well make myself some dinner. It had been a long time since lunch, even longer after my meeting with George. We had efficiently going through my inventory numbers down pat, but it still took a while.

I was just putting the kettle on for some tea and pulling out a small piece of fish to cook when there was a knock at the door. I frowned, moving to quickly wash my hands before heading back into the sitting room where the front door was. Maybe it was Charlotte, sometimes she popped over for some tea and gossip in the evening.

I was entirely unprepared for the tall, dark-haired wizard framed against the glow from the streetlight out in front of my house. He looked much the same as he had the last time I'd seem him, with the hawk-like nose and the bristly black eyebrows. He'd filled out a little over the years, no longer quite as thin as he had been. A fine sheen of water droplets covered his short hair.

"Viktor?" I stared up at him in disbelief.

"Her-mi-o-ne." Each syllable was carefully picked out, he was certainly more proficient with my name than he had been the last time I'd spoken to him. Of course, that had been years ago. "I went to your shop, you were not there. I was told you live here." He still had an unmistakable accent, but he was definitely more familiar with English as a whole, not just my name. "I am sorry, it is late here. I am not used to it."

How did he know where I worked? _How did he know where I lived_? I was having a hard time coming up with things to say; my mind was still filled with numbers and trying not to dwell on the announcement of George's new niece-or-nephew, my brain seemed completely frozen in trying to comprehend this turn of events. I didn't know whether to hug him or not, had we hugged at Bill's wedding? That was the last time I'd seen him. I was glad to see him again.

He looked down at me for another moment or two, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement, before leaning forward and brushing a kiss against my cheek. His lips were cold from the chill fall evening air. "May I come in?"

"Of course." I stepped aside to let him into my house, and I caught sight of Charlotte just down the street, standing in front of her own front gate. She gave me a bright smile and a wave before turning to head up the path to her own front door. Of course it had been Charlotte. I was going to have to answer a lot of questions later.

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, it was nice to come back to this again. ****LuresaSWTOR, this update is for you. ;)**


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